Chicken Salad with a Side of Ink and Needles
by Laura Ann Yates
Summary: What happens when Harry finds out about a tattoo that Nikki has? Inspired from the not so recent news of Emilia Fox's tattoo.
1. Preparation

**Preparation**

Pulling your car into your drive, you frown briefly as you see another car in front of yours. The small crease in your forehead is quickly wiped away as you recognise the car and remember fondly why it is there in the first place. Harry Cunningham; your best friend; your secret love. His flat was blown up not two days ago meaning he was homeless until it could be fixed. You took pity on him, ignoring the fact that living in the same house as him for any length of time could be potentially dangerous for your relationship but you don't care; he needed a place to stay and you have a spare room, it's what best friends do for each other and your pretty sure he would find room in his flat for you if the roles were reversed.

Walking up to your front door, you take the spare key from behind the star on the wall and unlock the door. You're hit with a frenzy of aromas as you step inside the house and slip off your shoes. A smile breaks out across your face as you see Harry stood in the kitchen trying to work out where you keep everything. You spy the freshly cooked, golden chicken on the counter and you guess he's looking for a knife sharp enough to carve the bird. "Carving knives are on the wall in the pantry." You say, giggling slightly as he turns around, shocked at your sudden appearance, obviously not expecting you home from work just yet.

You watch as he disappears through a door to your left and reappears seconds later, brandishing one of the larger carving knives you own, looking oddly like a psycho or mad scientist; maybe both. "Thank you." He mutters in your direction, turning to carve the chicken, for what you assume is your supper, before turning back to your with a frown on his face. "What are you doing home? I thought all that paper work would keep you for at least another hour. I planned to surprise you with dinner on the table when you got in..."

"Sorry to disappoint but Leo took pity on me and did half of my work for me."

"He offered to do your work? He never offers to do mine!" You see the mock outrage etched across his face, knowing that he isn't really mad with your boss.

"Well you always leave work ten minutes early. I always stay at least an hour after I'm due to finish. Unlike you, I don't like leaving my work to the last minute."

"I don't leave it to the last minute!"

"That's why you stayed at the lab until almost midnight last week to finish your paper work for last months deadline."

"Stop insulting me and make yourself useful." He jokes as you giggle at his feeble attempt to argue with you.

"Where do you want me?" You know he can see the double meaning behind this but you don't care. You're sick of always skirting around the issue.

"In the living room with your feet up." He tells you, seriously this time but you flat out refuse to let him do all the work. He's in your house, he's your guest; it should be you doing the cooking and the cleaning, not him. You tell him this but he still tries to refuse your help. You stand there and stare at him, knowing he's bound to get either uncomfortable under your gaze or bored and let you help. That time comes ten minutes later when you're told to prepare a salad for the two of you.

Doing as you're told, you pad across to the fridge in search of lettuce, tomatoes and whatever else you have that could go in a salad. You pull all you need out and find a space close to Harry that isn't already occupied by dirt or other food that Harry has cooked that afternoon. Silence lingers in the air as you don't know what to say to the man pressed tightly to your side. Your elbows knock together many times as he carves the chicken and you slice the tomatoes.

You feel his eyes follow your movements across the kitchen to the sink where you wash the lettuce. You feel his presence behind you as you pass by the fridge to finish preparing the salad. You don't quite get to where you were stood before as Harry takes your wrists in his hands and presses you firmly against the fridge. You stare right into his eyes and watch as his flick down to the wide smile currently occupying your face. You see the corners of his mouth twitch as he fights a smile not dissimilar to your own. You're suddenly aware of his breath, whispering across your lips and know what's coming next; or at least you thought you did.

You expected his lips to crash against your own.

You expected your dreams to come true.

You didn't expect him to turn his head at the last minute and whisper "What does the 'H' stand for?"


	2. Confession

**Confession**

Confusion is your first feeling as you wonder what the hell he is talking about. Then you remember everything that happened 10 years ago. You remember the affair you had with a married man. You remember how happy you were when you found out you were pregnant. You remember your heart breaking into a million little pieces as the doctor told you that you had had a miscarriage.

You look down at your left hand and study the small tattoo that sits on the inside of your middle finger. "It stands for Harry." You know as soon as you say those four words he will take it the wrong way, but you don't care.

"You have a 'H', in a heart, on your hand, that stands for Harry?" You know he is confused as to why you have his name, permanently written on your skin, but what he doesn't know is that it really wasn't meant to be his name. Putting him out of his misery, your begin your tale.

"It was 2 years before I met you. I had been working in the anthropology department at the university for three months and I fell in love. He was a colleague at the time. I knew he was married and trying for children with his wife. I knew what I did was stupid but I didn't care. I loved him. We had been having an affair for a month when I found out I was pregnant. I was so happy. I had always wanted to be a mother and it was finally happening. Everything was going so well, we were both healthy, me and my little boy. When we found out it was a boy, we went through every name we could think of but it was the only one I loved. We were going to call him Harry when he was born. Even the doctor was shocked when it happened. I had a miscarriage. He left me when I told him. I thought he loved me but it turned out he was just with me for the sex. It was just temporary and then I got pregnant and he knew it would make him look bad if he left me then so he stayed. I would have understood, but he thought it better to stick around and break my heart later rather then sooner."

You feel Harry's thumb swipe across your cheeks as he wipes away the tears that leaked from your eyes. As he releases your wrists to pull you into his arms, you're shocked slightly. You thought he would be disgusted at you for having an affair with a married man. You relax and collapse into his arms, more tears running down your face.

"Nikki." He whispers "I am SO sorry."

"I'm ok. It was 10 years ago."

"Still, he was your child. It couldn't have been easy for you."

"It wasn't. It was even worse when I met you because you have the same name but then I fell in love again, the tattoo became a reminder of that love instead of a reminder of my pain." You smile as once again, confusion his etched across his face. "I fell in love with you."


End file.
